It was always you
by LucianAella
Summary: Sherlock's John's best man, doesn't John realise how Sherlock feels for him?
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock couldn't believe it. John was getting married. John could barely believe it himself. They stood at the front of the church, waiting. Waiting for Mary. Sherlock was nervously biting his bottom lip, his eyes were only for John.

Mary walked down the aisle, beautiful, smiling in a gleaming white dress. Her veil covering her blushing face. John looked happy too as he watched his fiancé walk towards him. Though not as happy as he could have been.

Sherlock glared at Mary. She was stealing his John away from him and he wasn't sure if he could ever forgive her.

"John, please don't do this," Sherlock whispered urgently.

"I want to, Sherlock. I love her." John frowned at his best man. Mary came level with them and beamed at John who returned the smile warmly.

"We are gathered here today, in the sight of god, to bear witness to the holy union of…" intoned the vicar. He continued but Sherlock wasn't paying any attention to him. How could John do this to him. He was forced to stand there, right next to him, as he pledged himself to another. Surely he knew, he must've known, how could he not? He was certain John knew, and what's more, he was certain the feelings were mutual. Sherlock stayed as still as he could, chewing on his bottom lip as before.

"If anyone here knows a reason for Mary and John to not be married, speak now, or forever hold your peace,"

Sherlock couldn't contain himself. "Stop," he said, only just loud enough. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"What are you doing?" hissed John, turning towards him slightly.

"I, erm," the weight of what he'd done suddenly dawned on him. "John, please, it's you, it always has been you, from the moment we met I _knew_ it was _you_. How can you marry her when I love you and need you so much? Don't marry her, please," Sherlock begged quietly. He took hold of John's hands, not wanting to let him go. He'd never done anything like this before but it felt right. "I'm not a psychopath; I'm not even a high functioning sociopath any more. You've made me discover feelings. I love you John Hamish Watson. Please don't marry this other person. I need you more." John looked at him speechlessly, his eyes brightening.

"Ive waited too long to do this," Sherlock murmured and gently leaned in to kiss John softly, _his _ John, lingering as long as he dared.


	2. Chapter 2

"I've waited too long to do this," Sherlock murmured and gently leaned in to kiss John softly, _his _ John, lingering as long as he dared.

When he broke the kiss, Sherlock dropped John's hands, stared at the floor. He felt his cheeks redden as a horrible silence descended on the church. Both sides were glaring at him, eyes full of contempt. He could feel their penetrating gazes judging him wrongly. Only the soft sigh of Mrs Hudson's "oh, Sherlock," penetrated the wall of solid silence.

Never before had Sherlock felt this awkward, this embarrassed, this afraid. He dared not look at John for fear that he would see disgust written on his beautiful features.

Dark mutterings began amongst the wedding guests. The best man shouldn't have been kissing the groom. Sherlock shrank away from the angry family members, he ran from the church, stumbling, until he was out in the cool fresh air. Heavy clouds coated the sky, blocking out the sun, a grim day for a wedding.

Tears threatened to fall down his sharp cheeks, it was all he could do to hold back the waiting waterfall. He fell to his knees, hands grabbing at his dark curly locks, choking back the inevitable onslaught of tears.

A warm arm gently snaked around his thin shoulders. John was crouched beside him looking worried. Mary stormed past them, white wings trailing after her like a thousand doves.

"I'm sorry, John," Sherlock croaked, eyes red.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. I should be thanking you," he whispered reassuringly. His friend looked at him, puzzled and teary eyed, his expression saying 'for what?'

"For this," John cupped Sherlock's face lightly and moved in slowly, their lips met warm against each other. This time the kiss wasn't broken quickly. Sherlock turned his body so he was fully facing John, _his _John. His slender arms wrapped around the smaller man in a tight embrace, afraid that if he let go john would disappear.

For the first time, Sherlock felt actually, truly happy. This was better than any adrenaline kick he got from chasing criminals. This was safe and warm and happy. Sherlock resolved that he would never let John go again.


	3. Chapter 3

For the first time, Sherlock felt actually, truly happy. This was better than any adrenaline kick he got from chasing criminals. This was safe and warm and happy. Sherlock resolved that he would never let John go again.

They left the church grounds quickly, not wanting to have to face the angry wedding guests, more for Sherlock's sake than John's. He was still very shaken. John didn't let go of him all the way back to 221B, he held Sherlock's hand, occasionally coaxing him along with a gentle kiss.

Sherlock was new to all of this, he'd never had feelings for anyone before and now he was suddenly surrounded by them. Since Redbeard, he'd told himself that he would never love again because the only thing that came from it was pain.

Slowly, John guided Sherlock up the stairs, back to where he had lived before Mary. It felt so good to be back in the same old rooms. The second John closed the door Sherlock was on him, nothing rough, his arms flew around the smaller man's waist holding him tightly, nuzzling into his neck. It was comfort.

He wouldn't let go, couldn't. Even with John whispering soothing words into his ear. Fear still clouded his mind, from the angry people, from his own feelings. He wasn't used to all these emotions.

Eventually, the doctor led the consulting detective over to the sofa where Sherlock flopped fully on top of John, trying to absorb everything about the ex-soldier; his warmth, his smell, his heartbeat, everything.

"I love you," he mumbled into John's shoulder.

"I love you too," John ran his fingers through the taller man's dark, thick curls, so much so that Sherlock was practically purring.

"I'm sorry about Mary. I don't know what I was thinking. I need you more than anything," he kissed the top of Sherlock's head.

"I didn't want to leave you, I had to. They were going to kill you," he looked at his friend with wide eyes, bright with unshed tears.

"I know," the doctor tilted the ex-sociopath's head and leant in to kiss him. In Sherlock's eyes it was the best so far. It was safe, warm, home. It had everything Sherlock could ever want or need hidden beneath it.

When they finally broke apart, he continued to gaze into John's beautiful eyes.

"Does this mean we're more than friends now?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, Sherlock," John laughed quietly, kissing him again, "You are mine and I am yours, and I don't care who knows it."


End file.
